


The Prison by Edgar Allan Poe

by kaesaria



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Crack, First Time, Humor, Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, M/M, POV Rick, PWP, Prison Sex, Rickyl Writers' Group, Rickyl Writers' Group Bingo 2016, Season/Series 03, Smut, dirty rhymes and alliteration, the raven, trochaic octameter-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6165221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaesaria/pseuds/kaesaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>     Once upon a midnight steamy, while I pondered, damp and dreamy,</i><br/><i> Over my many monstrous zombie nightmares filled with gore—</i><br/><i>      While I nodded, nearly dreaming, suddenly there came a screaming,</i><br/><i>      As if someone truly bleeding, bleeding volumes on my cellblock floor.</i><br/><i> “What the fuck,” I muttered, jolted; rushed to look—and then I swore,</i><br/><i>          You were there, and no one more.</i> </p><p>Or, eighteen stanzas of shameless Rick/Daryl prison smut in trochaic octameter à la The Raven.  With some walkers thrown in there for good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prison by Edgar Allan Poe

**Author's Note:**

> I have no regrets. Just a sincere apology to Mr. Poe, and a shout out to the RWG for egging me on. (And a special thank you to butterflyfish for the inspiration for stanza #15!)

     Once upon a midnight steamy, while I pondered, damp and dreamy,  
Over my many monstrous zombie nightmares filled with gore—  
     While I nodded, nearly dreaming, suddenly there came a screaming,  
     As if someone truly bleeding, bleeding volumes on my cellblock floor.  
“What the fuck,” I muttered, jolted; rushed to look—and then I swore,  
          You were there, and no one more.

     Ah, distinctly I recall, ‘twas in the heat of Georgia's fall,  
And outside the fence each groaning, lurching walker I did abhor.  
     Sighing, did I wipe my face off;—a nightmare was worth the tradeoff;  
     Better dreaming than a standoff—a standoff against the terrors in my core—  
The thought of walkers coming, climbing, creeping in our prison door—  
          Gruesome geeks; and death and gore.

     But then as I at you stood looking, a whole new sense in me was cooking,  
Thrilling me—filling me with fantastic feelings I’d never felt before;  
     So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating:  
     “Tis Daryl, patrolling, protecting the passage to our cellblock floor;  
The man who hunts and tracks and watches my back in this zombie war—  
          My best friend—and nothing more.”

     Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,  
“Daryl,” asked I, “Did you hear that screeching noise outside my cell, before?  
     The fact is I’m just out here asking—” (truly I’m _not_ multitasking,  
     Masking this hard-on for you that came onto my cock before),  
“Tell me, was it you who called me?”—and here I stepped outside my door—  
          A smirk, from you, and nothing more.

     Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,  
Doubting, dreaming dreams no straight man ever dared to dream before;  
     But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token;  
     Then—your words at last were spoken; lifting me to heights unknown before—  
These words I heard as blood rushed southward, “You wanna score?”  
          You whispered this, and nothing more.

     Back into my own cell turning; my skin, my neck, my face all burning,  
But— _again_ I heard you whisper, and somewhat _louder_ : “You wanna score?”  
     “Surely,” thought I, “surely there’s something wrong inside my eardrums,  
     Or my cerebrum, ‘cause Daryl’s never wanted a thing like this before—  
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; —  
          But my cock yelled, “I want more!”

     Open here I flung the doorway; then, with a strut and sure way,  
In you stepped; preening, leering, knowing well your body I’d adore;  
     Not the least reluctance showed you, not a minute stopped or stayed you;  
     But, with mien of lord or lady, perched atop my bunk—and more;  
Perched and smirked and sprawled your legs apart just like a pretty whore—  
          Hot, and lewd, and something more.

     Then your bawdy look beguiling my shocked fancy into smiling,  
By the smutty, horny appearance of the countenance you wore,  
     “You sure you want to be taken?” I asked— “Best not be mistaken,  
     ‘Cause my cock, it has awaken; wants to screw you to the cellblock floor… ”  
Not a twitch at this came from you; but with a squint you did implore,  
          “What the fuck you waiting for?”

     Much I marveled, this ungainly proposition made so plainly,  
And it made my blood run screaming, streaming to my cock once more—  
     So I could not help agreeing; this lewd sentiment was freeing—  
     Dropping to my knees, and leaning, I took your dick in hand and swore,  
“I’ll fuck you now,” my hand a-pumping, “Make you scream just like a whore.”  
          You writhed and gasped and—“Suck me more.”

     Shuddering with lust now woken by reply so aptly spoken,  
I tore open your pants, entranced, and put my mouth to the use called for;  
     Sucking on the velvet throbbing, I betook myself to bobbing  
     My head, hearing your breath sobbing, robbing your lungs of air once more;  
‘Till you shuddered, aflutter and froze outright by your alight on orgasmic shore—  
          You shook and gasped and came and swore!

     Now my own dick did feel poorly, squeezed inside my pants so sorely;  
And I reached in to pull the straining cock out for you to answer for.  
     Not a word then did you utter; you reached and stroked and made me sputter,  
     Pressed, my spine did melt like butter, the crest of pleasure brought afore—  
_Don’t stop_ , I prayed; then moved to do the things you bade or asked me for;  
          All you said was, “Fuck me more.”

     Groans now ringing through the cellblocks, I pulled and pushed and lined up our cocks,  
Straining, training my mind on attaining new pleasures for us to explore!  
     But then, upon the small cot sinking, I betook myself to thinking  
     Of other souls that may lay blinking, brought awake by moans and more;  
Can’t stop shrinking, thinking, what nasty sounds of us are heard next door?  
          Dirty moans, like, “Fuck me more.”

     Thus I froze, engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing  
To you, whose lustful eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;  
     You said nothing, you said nothing! Just looked and smirked at my shushing;  
     Smirked and quirked at all my blushing, then pushed wet thumb in your back door;  
You were silent, eyes a-glitter, opening yourself; with more in store—  
          And your eyes screamed, “Fuck me more.”

     Suddenly, the air grew denser, perfumed by an unseen censer;  
Swung by incubi who, hushed, came prowling, howling, spewing spore  
     That brought my blood to boiling heat! Forget the walkers on the street—  
     No fear in me could call retreat; to stop my breaching of your core—  
It’s in store—I lined my cock up and stocked up my stamina to press against you more;  
          Your canted hips bade, “Fuck me more.”

     “Jesus!” gasped I, blissful, reeling; pushed my hips down, kneeling, sealing  
Your body to mine and we both groaned, moaned with pleasure once more.  
     And the moonlight lit our fucking, throwing shadows across your bucking  
     Form beneath me, ducking; tucking your legs and turning on all fours—  
Thus we came! Yet I heard a keening sound that carried past my roar:  
          A whine, a moan, and—“Fuck me more.”

     And I lay there barely breathing; my lungs heaving, disbelieving,  
That even _you_ could want another fucking after what had come before;  
     “I’m spent!” cried I, in true alarm, “I need to stop, or I’ll be harmed  
     By your alluring, redneck charm!” And so fervently did I implore—  
“Is it— _possible_ to sate you? Tell me—tell me, I implore!”  
          “No,” you owned, “So fuck me more.”

     “Mercy!” I begged, seeking respite; my voice aghast and sounding desperate,  
Dearly needing rest to rally from the sex we’d had before.  
     But your want did not expire; gleaming need your eyes still fired  
     With baffling, dazzling desire as I’d never seen before!  
So with a cry I fell upon you; grasping, gasping with lust restored—  
          No escape, but to fuck you more.

     So 'till the dawn breaks, never stopping, we still are fucking, _still are fucking_ —  
On the bunk and against the wall and rolling on the cellblock floor,  
     And our eyes have all the seeming of some demons that are dreaming,  
     And the walkers out are streaming at the fence and straining at the prison door;  
Drawn by stains of sweat and sex that steam up off the cellblock floor—  
          To be lifted—nevermore!

**Author's Note:**

> I’m using this to fill the “Dark of Night” box on my Rickyl bingo card.
> 
> All feedback is hugely appreciated. You can also discuss this story (or anything else) with me on [Tumblr](http://kaesaria.tumblr.com/). **(ETA: And now also on Imzy.[Come play with me!](https://www.imzy.com/kaesaria))**


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